


Keep Me In Mind

by Life_Is_Fucked



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, Pretty much just a novelization guys, There's gonna be a whole squad like, but really gay, gay squad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_Is_Fucked/pseuds/Life_Is_Fucked
Summary: She wakes up in a world she can only remember faint traces of, little things here and there, like that Deathclaws are a very bad thing, that the men in red wearing funny looking helmets are just as bad, and that she needs to keep her distance with the Nellis Air Force Base, she can't tell you why those few things stuck but they're what did.She also knew how to shoot apparently, so she decides to put that to good use and help those she can, picking up like-minded others for the journey to save the wasteland(or at least make it slightly less terrible).Basically a novelization, guys.





	Keep Me In Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back again guys, it's been a hot minute but life got in the way of writing, but hopefully since I'm adjusted to the new work schedule I'll actually be around to update more.

There was a blinding light that blurred her vision as she blinked her eyes open, she tried to sit up, only stopping when rough yet gentle hands met her shoulders, followed by muffled speaking that she couldn’t quite make out. She turned her head, facing the outline of a man haloed by the light above them and tried to focus on what he was saying. As she tried to blink the blurriness away she felt his hands guide her into a sitting position, and suddenly everything was spinning, she gripped onto what she hoped was his forearms and took slow and deep breaths. 

After a few moments she felt what she assumed was normal and looked around, she was in an older looking ranch style home that seemed to have been turned into a makeshift hospital. The man seemed to be a bit older, the hair of his mustache was a light grey and the wrinkles covering his face were deep almost making him have a permanent scowl.   
He gave her a moment to collect her bearings before he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he gave her a thoughtful once over. 

“Easy now,” his voice had a thick western accident, like one from an older western holovid she faintly remembered watching as a kid, “I hope you don’t mind but I had to go rootin’ around your noggin’ to put things back in place and get you up and runnin’.” He reaches under his chair and pulls out a robotic looking mirror, holding it out to her, “Tell me how I did.” 

She looks into it and tilts her head from side to side, lifting a hand to trace the long faded scar that ran along her jaw then up to the fresh stitches in her forehead, wincing when her fingertips graze it.

“Careful now, that’ll take a hot minute to heal if you mess with it too much,” he leans back in his chair, “a stimpack can only do so much, and I don’t have many to spare, so I used ‘em where they were needed most.” she nods and runs her fingers through her orange-ish tan hair instead, combing out the short curls, the color reminded her of the sun as it set.

“Do you remember anything?” he breaks her out of reverie, “About what happened? Your name? Anything at all?” his questions make her head hurt as she tries to recall anything before waking up, all she can remember us the sound of a gunshot and a flash, then the blinding light she woke up to. 

“I remember a gunshot, then waking up here,” she starts, furrowing her brows as she sets the mirror down, rubbing at her eyes as a man in a checkered suit waving a gun around, flashes behind them, “I think I was shot? But why?” she focuses on the man, trying to put it together, then a memory comes. It was her getting a platinum poker chip, there were five others there each with a different package, she was Courier Six.

“My name might be Six? Or I was courier number six?” she lets out a frustrated groan and leans back against the wall behind the bed, “I don’t know, it’s all so confusing.”   
He nods in thought and pulls a beat up pack from beside his chair and she vaguely recognizes it as her own, he sets it on the table between them. 

“This was all you had on you when Victor brought you my way,” he gestures to the bag, “I didn’t wanna pry, but I was hoping to find some a next of kin or just a name in the case a burial was needed, there’s not much but maybe you can make somethin’ out of it all.” 

She reaches for it and gingerly starts pulling out her few possessions, a small pistol with a few boxes of ammo, some food that didn’t seem safe to eat anymore, a few changes of clothes and in the last pocket there were several small slips of paper.

She scans the papers, just confirming that she was a courier, the sixth one, but no name or other details of her life were listed. It did tell her that the package was supposed to be delivered straight to Mr. House on the New Vegas strip, she wasn’t sure who that was but figured she should find him and tell him what happened, or at least what she remembered happening.

“I’m Doc Mitchell by the way,” he introduces while standing up, “if you need some privacy to change and what not, there's a guest room right down the hall.” he nods and takes his leave, she gathers everything quickly and heads to the room, closing the door behind her.

She quickly pulled out an old tee and a flannel overshirt, throwing the ones covered with her own blood away. She pulled the makeshift hospital gown off and looked over her own body, it was littered with scars small and large and there was a dark jumble of thick black lines wrapping around her upper arm trailing to her wrist. She briefly wonders how she didn’t notice them earlier as she traces the slightly raised skin. 

She turns back to her bag and picks through the few pairs of pants she has, deciding to go with a pair of rough jeans, as she unrolls them a small holster and bag fall out, making a soft clink. She picks them both up and sets them on the bed while she finishes getting dressed, strapping the holster around her thigh. She rolled the sleeves of the flannel up to her elbows and tried to make her hair look not so disheveled and messy, giving herself a quick look over before slipping the pistol into the holster and picking the small bag up. It’s heavy and makes softly clinking sounds as she shakes it slightly, she finally gives in to her curiosity and pulls on the string holding it closed, making it slip off. Inside are a generous amount of bottle caps and for a moment she’s unsure of how to feel and eventually seals it with the string again before tossing it back into her bag with the rest of her scarce supplies then slips the pack onto her back. 

She leaves the guest room and heads to the living room where she finds Mitchell sitting on his couch with a book in his lap, she clears her throat to get his attention and he looks over to her before closing his book and setting it on the end table. 

“Let me see you out,” he pauses as he stands, “is Six what you’ll be going by now?” he asks softly, his hands resting on his hips in such a way that it makes him look like a concerned parent. That thought makes her chest ache as she realizes she doesn’t remember her own parents or if she even had any family somewhere. She’s pulled from her thoughts when he clears his throat and looks at her expectantly.

“Yes,” she pulls on the strap of her pack and looks down, “it’s really all I’ve got to go on, being courier six, I mean.” he nods and tilts his head towards the door, gesturing for her to follow.

“Now, it’s been many, many years since I’ve left this little town,” he starts as Six follows him to the front door, “but I know that this world is dangerous and that little pistol on your hip ain’t gon’ help you much out there.” she’s not sure where he’s going with this and it shows in her face. “So think of this as my way of trying to keep you safe out there,” he grabs a rifle leaning in the corner of the foyer and hands it to her, “I don’t have much in the way of ammo for this ole girl, but Chet should be able to set ya right up.”

Six isn’t sure what to say, she looks over it, fingers tracing the worn wood of the stock and the harsh hatch marks carved into it. She pulls it strap across her chest and lets it hang on her back, nodding at the man and reaching out to shake his hand. He gives her a smile then claps her shoulder, heading back to the living room to resume his reading while she readies herself for what’s to come.


End file.
